Almost
by Princess Skye Jewel
Summary: He almost had everything a boy wanted, but one thing that he couldn't change by himself startled him.


**Almost**

**Summary: He almost had everything a boy wanted, but one thing that he couldn't change by himself startled him.**

**A/N: One-shot. **

_Almost_

It's a word in everyone's mind. When they just got one mistake on an exam simply because they were careless, when they were already on the last level of a game but the electricity shut down all of a sudden, when the gift box was just the exact shape and size of that dream video game when it was actually just a box of clothes, when you nearly caught your enemy but he got away….

Nobody liked the word 'almost', unless it was about when they almost fell off a cliff but were lucky that they didn't fall or whatnot.

Almost everyone had their 'almost' moments, especially a young boy who lived in the 1790s to 1800s.

This particular boy was a perfectionist to the core. A single accidental spot of ink on his letter and he would crumple the paper without hesitation—even if the said document was already two pages long.

One winter night, he was outside in the nearby forest. The surroundings were dark. There were no stars. The occasional rustling of leaves to the wind gave that eerie feeling that he was alone. _No worries, _he thought, _father's just behind me…_

But his father wasn't. The young child soon found out after looking behind him only to see shadows. Did his father really leave him alone or was he just imagining it?

"Perhaps father is somewhere deeper in the woods hunting," the boy shrugged and went fearlessly into the dark atmosphere of the woods. He felt as if someone followed him. At each step he made, there was a sound, but he quickly dismissed it as the sound of twigs breaking.

He soon reached the end of the woods without any trace of his father. He could not remember which paths he took, so he kept going forward until he saw a town.

"That's peculiar," he said, his eyebrows getting uneven, "I never saw this place before."

He slowly walked until his tired body collapsed onto the snow. He had never covered such a distance by foot for he grew up riding a carriage when his destination was only a couple of blocks away.

For a moment, shocked, he remained still face down on the white mass of winter flakes. He felt a hand touch him and he rose.

The hazel eyes which stared at him stirred the boy's mind. They had warmth in them—as if he was a brother the young boy never had.

"Standup, little boy, it's cold," the man said.

"Who are you?"

"Diego de la Vega," the man smiled at him, "and you?"

The boy shyly refused to say his, and Diego didn't mind at all.

"Peculiar. You look like the commandante of our pueblo," Diego laughed. "Come home with me."

The two went to the hacienda, where an old—but not that much—man by the name of Don Alejandro accepted the boy. The boy, though, saw a picture of the commandante.

"Who is he?" The boy looked at Diego and Don Alejandro curiously.

"Capitán Enrique Sanchez Monastario," Don Alejandro replied, "the tyrant commandante."

The boy felt disturbed inside, but he could not tell why. With a burdened look, he said "I must go to bed now. Good night, Don Diego. Good night, Don Alejandro."

"Good night, mi hijo," Diego smiled and led the boy into the guest room.

* * *

The boy was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Why was his name exactly the same as the commandante's? Why was the soldier's face strangely similar to his? Was he in his future world, as a tyrant everyone hated? He never felt that hated in his life. He had everything his heart desired but this wasn't what he wished for his future. Yes, he wanted to be a soldier, but he didn't want to be a tyrant.

"Why oh why?" He muttered and soon fell asleep, fatigued with all the questions.

_He had almost everything, now he had something that was reserved only for the agents of hell._

* * *

He bolted awake the minute he heard the crashing of pots. _Damned bunglers… _

He quickly grabbed his uniform and changed into his usual appearance, strict and all. He darted out of his room and went out where, indeed, Zorro surprised his napping soldiers—again.

He drew a frustrated hand through his hair. His dream disturbed him. Was it just because he was hot with fever the night before and had a relapse? Or was this really a warning sign?

He scowled and joined his soldiers to ward off the outlaw. How he wished to go back in time as a child, at the time he had received everything a child would desire.

_He almost had it all._

* * *

**I'm done! Yes! Basically you know who's the boy in the story, right? Right?**


End file.
